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User blog:SensibleCenobite/Journey to the Topaz Temple and back. A tale about a Caitiff chronicler.
@page { margin: 0.79in } p { margin-bottom: 0.1in; line-height: 120% } This is just a story. Please take and re modify for any campaign, vacation, or bed time story. WARNING: This story is dedicated to my number one and only fan out there so far, StrangerThings. If you write in, Uncle Sensible is completely willing to write you a story. I got the 5th edition book on the way and I’m pretty excited. This is going to be adult oriented, but kid tested and mother approved. Message to people who “think” they are having an existential crisis: Don’t live the mundane. “It’s better to shot for the moon and miss than to shoot for the dirt and hit,” Galileo Galilee. Also, if you walk away from something politely, you could probably go back to it. Take a bath and try something that makes you content and joyful. Journey to the Topaz Temple and Back : A tale about a Caitiff chronicler. ''' Back in the day, I was walking around Japan teaching people martial arts, meditation, and how to party. Times were good. I had nothing but my monk robes and a sack which contained a flask of water, black beans, and “shitake” mushrooms. I happened upon a monastery with thirteen topaz Stupas. I was too intrigued to turn back. I put a smile on my face and eased my breath. “Calm, cool, collected,” as an old Ravnos master once told me once. Besides what did I have to lose? If I was nice, they would probably only ask me to leave, not kill me. I walk up to the front gates and there are two smiling monks there. I bow to them deeply and say “greetings, and well met!” They both smile back at me and say “you’re late, you may enter.” I’m a little shocked, but hey, I like their style already. I walk past the monks and into the courtyard. It’s a beautiful square courtyard with the greenest Irish grass. Across the way on a majestic yet simple topaz throne sat a monk with six monks on each of his side. Each row had two sets of triples. One man, a woman, and a metal looking humanoid. I was most curious about the shiny automatons and they seemed genuinely pleasant and kind. I walked up to them and they all smiled and nodded. I waved at them and smile back. “You’re late!,” they say smiling in unison. “So what am I late for?,” I ask. “What were you waiting for?” They all respond. “Waiting for what?” I ask a little curious. “To be content and joyful.” They yell at me in laughter. “You better give it away to keep it, young child of the night.” So for those of you that don’t know, I’m a thirty four million year old robot vampire. I’ve been around the block, trust me. This hit me side ways so to speak. I bow deep and contemplate what they say. “I’m not a psychic, do you know of anyone that could actually use my services?” I ask out of genuine laziness. They laugh once more and vanish in a twirl of copper and brass particles. As the cloud of metallic dust blows away, a village surrounded by forest decides to come out of hiding. The village is only a few acres large. I scan the horizon and I use my robot’s inference to see that there are roughly two hundred fifty people living there. There is a massive problem however. They are all frowning, or worse making straight faces. It’s a crime! The monks were right! This place sucked! I jog down the dirt path to avoid most of the cow pies. I roll up to the chief of the village and wipe the cow dung off my boot. He smiles and almost laughs. Two guards drinking by the barracks to the West get up and point at him with stern faces. He stops and looks down afraid. I’m going to have to go flip mode on this place subtle like. That night, I go into the local pub were all the real people are hanging out. I order a round a sake for everyone and they are hesitant at first. I extend my hand out at the bar and point at the shots of sake scanning from the start of the row and to the end. They slowly take the sake and drink it up. I learned some good techniques from my grandpa on how to impress strangers, so I bust out my marbles, pocket knives, and fishing poles. The children get excited about the marbles and I teach them all about it. I used to play with my Latino bots back in the day, so I got all the hot moves. I give the women the knives and tell them to shank the next person that steals their spray paint cans. They were amazing graphitii artists. I give the men the fishing poles and tell them to get the hell out of the house! I grew up with the brothers, and their moms will tell you to “get out, so I can watch my soaps! Obey or die!” White moms approve for sure. We’re all having the time of our lives. The men go off and I got them in eyes view since I’m the chaperon. They drink a lot of beer and basically do nothing in silence. They seem like they have achieved Zen. I leave them alone to enjoy themselves for the rest of the early afternoon. The kids are having the time of their lives playing marbles. They are all circled around a hole dug three or so inches down with a line drawn around the perimeter. One of of the kids shoots the marble in the hole and jumps up and does a “Yippee!” He reaches in the hole and grabs his marble out. He eyeballs all the scattered marbles outside the hole and spots a nice cats eye. It was light blue with a bright gold streak through it. It was made out of lapis lazuli, the same material King Solomon’s ring was made out of. He gives a Northern yell like I taught him “HuzzahhhhH!” With the marble in front of his thumb nail, impeccably balanced on his curled pointer finger, he lets fly and hits the lapis lazuli marble. A little girl screams the Southern yell like I taught her “HOOT, WHOOP, HOLLER!” and seems a little sad to part with her favorite marble. She shakes the boys hand and parts with the marble. The boy goes off skipping toward a nice young girl with red hair. They talk for a bit and he gives her the marble. She smiles at him and they walk away talking and holding hands. The women went to town with amazing art all over the village. They spray painted naughty bits all over the place. They had the time of their life. I didn’t need to keep visual tabs on them because once you put two or more women in a room it’s nothing but the '''Sisters of Cacophony. As long as I heard mindless chatter, laughter, and spray paint I knew they were fine. See Neonates, any good sire is worried when their Neonates go silent. Not laughing and having fun means danger. I go over and see what the women are up to. They are being harassed by the guard for having too much fun on their own buildings. I walk up, but try no to get involved. When you put people in protective custody, everyone will think they are a tattle tale and get targeted with nookies later. They try to talk it out with the guard and the women tell them to go away and mind their own business. I like it so far. No knives have been pulled. They guard starts yelling and pull out their clubs and pepper bombs. I don’t like this at all. I grab into my sack, enlarge my hand, and toss all my “shitake” mushrooms in a fan like manner. Not one “shitake” mushroom goes to waste and all land in the mouths of the men and women. The men grow into nine foot tall walking death spiders. The women turn into thirteen foot walking death machines. They all make a semi circle around the guard, giving them an out toward the barracks. The man who I thought was the nicest and most protective of the children, Skull Splitter, says firmly, but polite like, “you’re not welcome here any longer. Please leave.” The women stand there looking down on the guards with a twisted grin of confidence. The children are the best though. They don’t get caught up in anything and just have fun all day! I walk out of the village knowing I had helped move these life less corpses onto something much better. It doesn’t matter if you’re right, try to enjoy things and get a long. It’s more important to be relate-able, than correct. My troops ask for the best, and they get the best! Have fun! That’s an order! I hope you enjoyed that StrangerThings, Sensible Cenobite SensibleCenobite (talk) 18:40, February 18, 2019 (UTC) I finally made Clown Hell for anyone that was wondering what happens in the barracks after hours. Go check it out! Category:Blog posts